


Morality

by Br4v3b1rd (Les)



Category: Don't Starve (Video Game)
Genre: Dietcloud's Gangster AU, Drabbles, Gift Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-09-12 08:40:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16869742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Les/pseuds/Br4v3b1rd
Summary: Even if he dislikes dealing with Maxwell's messes usually, Wilson isn't one to leave him hanging. Literally.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dietcloud](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=dietcloud).



“Hey! You, yeah, you!” He held the crowbar much like he used to brandish a spear. “Where is he?”

The man stepped back. “I uh, I dunno. The bossman…” He was cut off by the sound of metal hitting metal. 

“Tell me where he’s being kept, and maybe I won’t ruin your face. Maybe I’ll just get your knees.” Wilson removed the crowbar. “Haven’t you ever considered that pissing off a scientist with a bloody crowbar is the worst thing you can do?”

The other man trembled. “Back room, door to the left. Oh god I have kids, please, please, please don’t hurt me.” His voice was too fast, too high pitched to be anything but sincere. Wilson swung anyway, aiming for his head. Didn’t these people think that maybe, just maybe, their captives had kids they looked after too? Webber was with Jack and Wendy for the night, thankfully. 

He dashed through the abandoned factory, the blood splattered crowbar held with a practiced confidence, even if it wasn't a spear. Humans weren’t as terrifying as shadows or hounds or any of the numerous things he’d dealt with. Humans died, and stayed dead. 

It was funny how he couldn’t bring himself to care for the morality of harming or killing anymore. He’d died more then enough, and any sense of right and wrong had been replaced with two things; protect your allies and survive. That’s all that mattered.

Speaking of allies, Maxwell had to be somewhere in here. The stupid idiot had gotten cocky and while usually he could take care of things himself, he’d apparently bitten off more then he could chew when handling a rather important delivery, and was accosted by more then a handful of a rival group.

Wilson absolutely loathed dealing with Maxwell’s messes. But, this had crossed a line. They’d decided to keep Maxwell captive, something about trying to break the kingpin to get the rest to bow down. He hadn’t gotten much from the shadow that delivered a request for help. 

They were so wrong, if they thought that trying to break his stupid annoying jerk of a husband was going to make the rest of them break. Much less the idea they could even break Maxwell. They’d already seen hell. This was child’s play.

He shouldered the crowbar as he slowed, reaching the back of the factory. While he could have taken a number of things, the weight of his crowbar was the most comfortable thing to use. Guns were too easy to break, jam, any number of terrible things. His crowbar, meanwhile, had survived his lab accidents quite well, pried open more doors then he could count, and had been quite useful the last time the bar had been rushed by police.

The last door on the left was shut, but he could see the light spill out from under the door. He reached the doorknob and pulled. Locked, typical. He set up the crowbar’s wedge so that it’d pull out the lock, and wrenched it open.

The sight he saw was not pretty. Even with just a few hours, bruises had bloomed down Maxwell’s chest and neck. He couldn’t see his husband’s face. “Christ…” He walked forward, and softly cupped Maxwell’s cheek. He had to reach up to do so, seeing as his husband was currently hanging from a meat hook by a pair of handcuffs. “Hey, love.” He muttered, “Sorry I took so long.” He frowned at the two black eyes and blood stained mouth. 

An eye half opened. “Mind getting me down first, Higgsbury, before we get all sappy? My arms are almost dislocated.” His sardonic tone was in place as always.

Wilson couldn’t help but give a grim chuckle. “Give me a second.” He raised up his crowbar and caught it over the hook. “Prepare for a landing, alright?”

“The moment my feet touch the ground, I will be the happiest man on earth. Hurry up.”

Wilson yanked down, and plaster fell around them as the hook and crowbar clunked against the floor. Wilson caught Maxwell before he joined them, and ran his fingers through Maxwell’s matted, bloody hair, making his partner sigh in relief as he held him up. He could feel the other’s hands tremble as he grasped onto Wilson’s shirt, betraying his more confident mask. 

“You know, I’m starting to think I’ll be joining you on your ‘outings,’ for a while, love.” He said, pressing his face into the side of Maxwell’s head. “But let’s get home.” And he was going to be doing some very specific research in the next few nights. On some very specific people and with a very specifically hidden book in his hands. 

Morality was nothing to him, when it came to his loved ones. That was something he’d learned very well in that nightmare. He’d do anything for them.


	2. Chapter 2

Wilson held the codex in his hands, looking at the sleeping form of his partner. 

Only a few hours ago did he manage to get Maxwell home and bandaged up, the other man quietly saying something about not needing a doctor and Wilson had relented if only for the fact that Maxwell was conscious and while a mess, not bleeding heavily at the moment. Besides, the handcuffs were probably not a good look, even if they weren't police handcuffs. If anything was more serious then it looked, Wilson would take him in after making him look less like he'd escaped from custody.

Instead of the kitchen or anywhere the blood would look remiss in the morning to anyone else, Wilson drug him down to the lab the moment they were back to their home, lock-picking kit freeing the other's bloody wrists. Then Wilson started peeling off the other's torn clothes and warming some water. He wasn't a professional, but their time together in the constant had certainly taught him how to splint ribs and clean and care for a variety of wounds. Even with Maxwell's usual mask in place, Wilson wasn't blind to the subtle shake in shoulders and hands, he'd felt it the moment he brought Maxwell down from the meat hook. 

He never liked being restrained. Not after the the throne, which was reasonable in Wilson's book. But typically, Wilson could expect Maxwell to take care of himself, the other's magic was fairly powerful. This time he hadn't been able to handle much more then sending out a little messenger. Wilson wasn't sure what they'd done to Max, another reason to borrow the codex for a bit, but it could have just been the physical toll would have been too much, he'd considered, looking over broken ribs and internal bleeds.  
Still, he'd research it. If it was something their rivals had done, Wilson would prefer to be able to combat it. "You're staying home for at least a week, you know." He'd said, rinsing the blood from a wrist with a fresh cloth. At least the old scars from There didn't look out of place on them these days, considering the new batches of scars that were added annually. 

Wilson had felt a wince as he applied the antiseptic, who knew what those handcuffs had on them. "I-" There was a hiss of pain. "I have a business to run, darling." 

"Yeah, and someone else can handle it for a week, love." While mostly used for affectionate moments, their petnames had a touch of venom occasionally. "You're no spring chicken and I don't want you hurting yourself worse. These are broken ribs, Maxwell. Not to mention I need to make sure nothing gets infected." 

There had been silence between them for a few moment, the first wrist treated and wrapped, before Maxwell spoke again. "I guess you're going to nurse me back to health?" There was a joking tone to his voice and Wilson couldn't help the roll of his eyes.   
"I was considering doing your leg work for you, actually, seeing I'm the only person you actually trust, and to hand over the reigns to a second or one of the other higher ups is more likely to end with them trying to topple you." Wilson's eyes had narrowed as there was another hiss at the antiseptic to the other wrist. "Besides, I want to personally thank the bastards who did this." 

Wilson looked up to see a bit of the mask slipping, a little bit of shock and awe before it was covered up. "I was under the impression you didn't want to handle my affairs." Maxwell admitted, quietly. "I wasn't going to ask you to deal with it."

It was impromptu at the time, a kiss to the hand of the wrist he was bandaging. "There's a difference between you asking me to handle your affairs and me handling it because someone hurt you. Oh sure, a stray bullet once in a while is expected. This? This is not a single bullet." Maxwell had stilled at the kiss, and Wilson looked back to him. "I refuse to let some bastards hurt you and get away with it scot-free in an attempt to destroy you."

There was only silence as Wilson continued his work, Maxwell's eyes were closed as he started to set his ribs. It wasn't until that had been bandaged that he'd spoken. "Thank you, darling." It was soft, words only for Wilson to hear even though no one else was up in the dead of night. 

It was the last they spoke, minus directions as Wilson checked for a concussion, wrapping the gash in his head up after confirming that there wasn't a severe head injury. Then it was a final check, thankfully they hadn't gotten around to breaking his legs, that would have been a nightmare to deal with. 

He guided the bruised Maxwell to bed and pretended to sleep as well before he finally heard the other settle into sleep. 

Now, the codex was in his hands, the tiny safe that held it wide open and he took another glance at Maxwell sleeping before settling at his desk to read. He already had plans for finding and ruining the men who'd ambushed Max, but it was always good to brush up. He wasn't in control as Maxwell, and besides, any information concerning magic suppression was another thing he was after. 

There was dawn filtering in through the closed curtains as he heard a sleepy voice. "Darling... come back to bed. It's cold and you've been staring at the codex for hours." Max managed out. He'd been caught, it seemed, though it shouldn't have been that much of a surprise. Maxwell slept horribly, he'd only started to get more then an hour to two once Wilson had started to share his bed.   
"It's five, I think I've missed the whole window for sleep." Wilson said in return, flipping a page. 

There was a long suffering sigh. "Humor your aching fiance and come back to bed. I'm cold." The last sentence was practically a whine. 

Wilson gave in, snorting a laugh as he picked up the codex and slid it back into the safe. Door closed and lock turned, he finally slid back into bed. "Fine, fine. You've charmed me back, love." Wilson said, looking at Max's bruised face. "How are you feeling?"   
There wasn't a reply until arms had pulled him closer. "Sore, cold. Absolutely miserable without you." 

"Mh. Miserable without me, are you?" Wilson said softly, running fingers through black and grey strands. "I'm sorry, but you'll have to live without me in an hour or so." 

There was a sigh and the arms held him tighter. "Don't go, Wilson." Max mumbled, still sleepy sounding. 

"Someone has to take care of your mess." There was an unsaid 'and as usual, it's my job' that went along with it. "I won't take the whole day, just make sure things are running smoothly. I'll claim you're dealing with other business." Wilson turned over to face him and lightly kissed him. "Don't do anything stupid while I'm gone." 

"You wouldn't believe me if I promised." Maxwell retorted, cuddling closer.

Stars, he was cold, Wilson thought. He'd add another blanket to their bed before he left. "That's why I'm not asking you to promise. I'm just telling you to not do anything stupid." He said back. "Maybe for once you'll listen." 

There was a hum of acknowledgement and Wilson sighed. It'd have to do.

**Author's Note:**

> This was a gift fic for the wonderful dietcloud, who actually was the reason I got into Maxwil in the first place. She's a gem, and I'll probably be adding to this slowly. The first part was written in 2016.


End file.
